


Mess

by durgasdragon



Series: Alone [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 22:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19777297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/durgasdragon/pseuds/durgasdragon
Summary: And yup, Snowy is, officially, a goddamn love-struck teenager because Tater sent him a fuckin' stupid text with an even stupider emoji, and he's ready to proposemarriage.  Jesus, he's a mess.





	Mess

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to catch all the Russian and Ukrainian words and phrases so that if you hover your mouse over it, the English translation should pop up. If I missed one, the translations are also posted in the end notes.

** Mess **

_Disclaimer: This is a purely fan-made piece that is using the world and characters from Ngozi Ukazu’s_ Check Please! _, and is made entirely for enjoyment. No financial gain has been made in the making of this piece. All other situations and plot developments are mine._

 _Summary: And yup, Snowy is, officially, a goddamn love-struck teenager because Tater sent him a fuckin' stupid text with an even stupider emoji, and he's ready to propose_ marriage _._ Jesus _, he's a mess._

_Sequel to_ Alone _._

 _Author’s Note: Still not nearly enough Tater/Snowy stuff out there. I still know next to nothing about hockey, as well as being unable to speak Russian or Ukrainian (everything used here came either from the internet, my Russian/English Dictionary, or_ Curse & Berate in 69+ Languages _). Possible out-of-characterness and un-beta’d._

_Constructive criticism and comments are always welcomed._

_Published: 12 July 2019_

_Rating: NC-17_

It's late when Snowy gets back to his condo, but Sofia had threatened him within an inch of his life if he didn't call her, so he pulls out his phone.

" _There_ you are!" She says in lieu of a greeting. "Either things went very well for you to be calling now or they went very poorly and you're drunk off your ass." She pauses, and then adds "of course, if things went _extremely_ well, you'd've called me in the morning."

" _Sofia_."

She laughs at him. "Oh, right, no sex until at least the third date with you, you old prude, you! Of course, you _could_ call all the hanging out you did together—"

" _Sofia!_ "

She laughs again. "All right, fine! I'll stop teasing you. Just give me the details. Did you count this as your first date so you could, at least, get a kiss out of him?"

Snowy bites his lip and feels how tender it still is. "... _Так_."

"DETAILS, _NOW!_ "

So he tells her about his afternoon and evening. How he went over to Tater's under the guise of being in the area. How he ended up helping his adorably inept teammate with his cooking. How he nearly screwed everything up and how Tater managed to salvage it. How Alexei wanted to kiss him so badly that he looked for loopholes in Snowy's personal dating rules. How he _kissed_. How Snowy had a second date lined up before they even were five minutes into the _first_ one. How their goodbyes went on far too long to be proper or appropriate.

Snowy keeps something things for himself—like how, when he was feeling defensive and raw and challenged, Tater had stated his reasons for them dating succinctly, as if they were the most _obvious_ thing in the world, as if it was crazy that Snowy even had to _ask_ why someone would want to date him. Like how Tater obviously wanted him, but was determined to treat Snowy as if the world revolved around him. Like how Alexei kissed him—as if he was sweet and precious and amazing and beautiful and the best thing that had ever happened to the Russian.

What makes things even more unreal is that Tater looks at him as if _Snowy's_ the miracle, and not like it's the other way around.

"I told you he was a romantic," Sofia says, deep satisfaction in her voice. "And I told you that he was in to you." She pauses, and then she says "Oh Dustin, I'm so happy for you. He's such a sweetheart, and you deserve someone who will dote on you like he will."

"I'm still having troubles believing it's real," he admits.

"What, that he likes guys?"

_That he wants to date me_ , Snowy thinks, but keeps the thought to himself. "Yeah. I mean…it's _Tater Mashkov_."

"They come in all shapes and sizes. I mean, look at that captain of yours and his adorable boyfriend. Would you have ever expected it of them?"

"I don't know Jack's boy well enough to say, but I wouldn't have expected it of Jack. Not because I don't think he couldn't be gay, but because I still find it hard to believe the guy let down his guard enough to _have_ a relationship in the first place. He's not known for being personable or open or anything like that."

"Okay, that's a fair point." Sofia is silent for a moment, and then she asks slyly "so can I just expect that you'll be Tater's plus-one to my wedding?"

"I'm your goddamn man-of-honour! So if anyone's a plus-one, it's _Tater_ , not me! And I'm not going to talk wedding shit with you tonight."

"But colour schemes! Flower selections! SEATING CHARTS, Dustin, SEATING CHARTS!"

" _Бувай_ , Sofia," he says over her laughter. " _Добраніч_."

" _Добраніч_ , Dustin. Have… _pleasant_ dreams!"

" _Чорт тебе бери!_ " He curses her before hanging up.

He spends a few moments staring at his mobile, trying to decide if texting Alexei now would make him clingy and smothering. He finally decides that since he'll be seeing the guy in less than twelve hours from now that it will. Reluctantly, he puts down it down next to his bed and goes to the bathroom to start getting ready for bed.

He hates brushing Tater's taste from his mouth (mostly gone by now, but still) and he hates washing Tater's touch from his skin, but since the alternatives are tooth decay, bad breath, and huge, ugly, overflowing pimples, he does it anyway. It is easier to do when he reminds himself that Tater will probably kiss him again tomorrow and that he actually has a _reason_ to look nice; he can't lose Alexei, now he knows he has a chance.

There are two text messages when he gets back to his bed. He feels his heart speed up when the first one is written in Russian, and the second one says ' _In case u dont read, miss u, my pretty snowstorm_ ' and _штуркти_ , how the hell is he supposed to _function_ with Tater sending him texts like that? Seriously!

His fingers move over his phone before he knows what he's doing. _Not as much as I miss you. Добраніч, милий мій._

The response is quick. _2morow, u tell me what means. <3_.

And yup, Snowy is, officially, a goddamn love-struck teenager because Tater sent him a fuckin' stupid text with an even stupider emoji, and he's ready to propose _marriage_. _Jesus_ , he's a mess.

A mess, he reminds himself, who has—somehow—caught the attention of Alexei Mashkov.

He _cannot_ fuck this up.

So he sends one last response, promising that he will and telling Tater that he's going to bed before he makes himself plug in his phone and leave it on his bedside dresser. He's not proud to admit that he lays on his side and stares at it once he gets into bed, but at least he's being disgustingly obnoxious and pathetic in the privacy of his own home where nobody can see him.

It takes far too long to fall asleep, but he sleeps well when he finally does. His dreams are more suggestive than usual, but instead of pissing him off and depressing him, it makes him a little giddy. If he plays his cards right, he's going to have first-hand knowledge of Tater's incredible body before the end of the week—maybe even by the end of the _day_ , but he doesn't want to get too far ahead of himself.

Snowy's run the next morning is completed in record time and after his shower, he takes too long deciding what say 'date' without screaming 'desperate about dating!' or anything like that.

He's deciding between jeans when he has a brilliant thought. He could dig out his slow cooker and have something going all day so he'll have something that he can offer to Tater and maybe—maybe that could be something _he_ can do. He's not as skilled as Gabby or Jack's boy in the kitchen, but he's no Tater, either. He knows enough that he can pull together a decent meal.

And if there is going to be one way to Tater's heart, it's going to be through his stomach. It's no secret that Tater _loves_ to eat—particularly sweets, but he's not usually too picky.

So Snowy abandons his obsessing over his outfit and hurries into his kitchen to see what he has. He has enough for some apple cinnamon pork loins, so he throws it together into the slow cooker. He makes sure that it's plugged in and on (he made the mistake of not checking _once_ —he had to throw out one of his favourite recipes because it had sat on his counter all day) before glancing at the time and realising he's going to be late if he doesn't leave in the next seven minutes.

Well, _that_ certainly solves the clothing dilemma. He throws on whatever he grabs first, stuffs the rest of his clothes into his closet ( _just_ in case he needs his room to be tidy), makes sure that he has important things such as wallet, keys, and mobile, and hurries down to his car.

Tater is waiting in front of his building when Snowy pulls up. He waves and his smile is blinding as he comes over. And dear god above, he's wearing those jeans that make his strong legs go on _forever_. He looks really, really, _really_ good.

He settles in the passenger's seat, still beaming. "Hello! Hi, Snowy! How are you?"

Snowy makes sure that his car is in park before he reaches over, twisting his fingers in the shorter hairs at the base of Tater's skull and pulling his teammate forwards so they can kiss. Since Snowy purposely bought the darkest tint he could get for his windows, he's not worried about being seen when the kiss gets hungry and messy.

Alexei's eyes are dark and his mouth is wet and red when they finally manage to separate. "Любимый," he breathes, the want in his voice making Snowy seriously consider pulling them both into the back seat of his car, even though there is absolutely _no_ room for the two of them to make out there, much less fuck.

" _Я скучив_ ," Snowy nearly blurts out before he realises that Tater probably has no idea what he's said. "I've missed you."

Tater's smile softens. "I have missed you too, Ненаглядный. Is very hard to wait when I know I see you soon, but is not soon enough." He curls his large hand over Snowy's elbow and lets his thumb caress the sensitive skin on the inner side. "Even harder to wait when I know how you kiss."

Yeah, Snowy's like, _morally obligated_ to kiss Tater again right now. He can't _not_ after hearing that.

Alexei straight-up _whines_ when Snowy pulls away and that is _not helping_ the situation. He sharply reminds himself that they haven't even gone on the second date yet.

"I threw some stuff in my slow cooker," he says quietly in the space between them, his thumb gently petting the base of Tater's skull through his hair. “Maybe you could come for dinner tonight.”

Tater blinks and then graces the other man with another one of his blinding smiles. “You cook for me?"

"Well, since you won't let me take you out for brunch…" Snowy lifts an eyebrow.

"Ohhh…is that how it is going to be?" The larger man is clearly trying to hold his laughter inside and failing.

"Definitely how it's going to be."

Alexei kisses him, laughing, before reluctantly pulling away and settling into his own seat. "Brunch," he says, voice low and rough. "We go now or we will never go."

_Never going_ doesn't sound like the worse option in the world, but Snowy restrains himself. "Where to?"

The large man directs him to a tiny little Russian café that he claims is one of his favourite restaurants in the city. He obviously frequents it regularly—the proprietor and waitress enthusiastically greet him in his native tongue, and they clearly give him preferential treatment.

After a few minutes, Tater switches to English. "This is my goalie, Snowy," he tells the waitress. "He is not Russian, but please forgive him for that."

Snowy kicks his teammate under the table and mutters ' _позашлюбний_ ' under his breath.

The waitress smiles. "Congratulations on the Cup," she says, her accent less pronounced than Tater's. "We all rooted for you here."

"Thanks." Snowy accepts the laminated menu from her and is thankful to see that it's in English.

The meal comes quickly and is good; he can see why Alexei likes the place. It's probably a taste of home for the large man and he's obviously popular here (Snowy's also seen how Tater likes to tip—it almost _certainly_ plays a role in it). Tater's showing a little piece of himself that he doesn't usually flash around and Snowy feels privileged that his friend is letting him in.

"So, you've got plans for the rest of the afternoon or…?" Snowy asks as he and Tater head back to his car. He fights the urge to grab his friend and press him up against the car door so they can make out like horny teenagers.

"I have thing this evening," Tater tells him with a grin as he gets in, "but I have little time to hang out."

"Fuck you," Snowy retorts.

"Yes, I could spend afternoon doing that."

Thank god that Snowy hadn't started driving yet, because he would have driven them right off the road after a comment like that. " _Jesus fuckin' Christ_ , Tater!"

Alexei shrugs. "What? Is true. We have date. You are beautiful and amazing. Why wouldn't I?"

Snowy can't decide if he loves the universe or hates it. "I still have to _drive!_ How the _fuck_ do you expect me to concentrate on the road after you say shit like that?!"

The smile that spreads over the larger man's face is more breath-taking than mountain sunrise. "Is mistake on me," he says, not sounding the least bit apologetic. "Your car is too small for fucking."

Snowy hits his forehead on the steering wheel. " _Хуй-дражнити_ ," he moans.

Tater, the fuckin' _asshole_ , laughs at him.

"That's it, I've changed my mind. There will be no dinner for you tonight."

"Нет! I just make jokes! Do not take food from me!"

Snowy snorts slightly. "Don't fuckin' tease me then, eh?" He lifts his eyebrow, but he can feel the corners of his lips curling upwards.

A large hand catches the edge of his jaw and neck and pulls him forward so Alexei can kiss the smile right off of his face. "I tease," the Russian murmurs into Snowy's mouth a few moments later, "because you become pink and you are even prettier in pink." His thumb makes a few slow, long passes over the goalie's lower lip before Tater is kissing him with real intent.

_Ісус Христос_.

Snowy is very seriously thinking about trying to climb into Alexei's lap, never mind the fact that there's no space and they're in a very public parking lot in the middle of the damn day, when the other man slowly eases back. He stares at Snowy's mouth with a naked hunger that would border on frightening if the shorter man didn't feel the exact same way.

"Maybe," Tater says, voice lower and accent more marked than usual, "we go spend afternoon at your place, да?"

Snowy swallows hard and forces himself to look away, taking a few deep breathes. "Yeah, sure. We can do that."

In the back of his head, Snowy worries that this is a mistake and that he's moving too fast—he has his rules for dating in place for a _reason_. He gets too hasty without them, gets burned, and is miserable when it ends badly. His rules are to slow him the fuck down and make him get to know the person at least a _little_ before he hops into bed with them and lets things spiral out of control.

And this is _Tater_ that he's driving to his condo. Alexei Mashkov is one of the sweetest, hottest, and most talented players in the world. He's Snowy's friend and plays on Snowy's team. Sex will either be the best idea they've ever had, or the worst.

He _cannot_ fuck this up.

"I have not seen your home," Tater says cheerfully as Snowy parks the car in the underground ramp. "You must show me around."

"Yeah, sure." Trying to keep a lid on the energy he feels thrumming through him, the shorter man leads the way to the elevators.

"Oh! I forget again and again!" Alexei fumbles with his phone as Snowy presses the button for his floor. "You never tell me what message means!" He holds out his cell, showing the conversation from the last night.

"I told you 'sleep tight, my dear'," the goalie says, aiming for causal in case it was too much too soon.

The Russian breathes out a soft sound. "You really say that?"

"Yeah."

"Say it? I wish to hear." Tater is starting to crowd Snowy against the wall, his chocolate eyes intense.

"Sleep—"

"Нет! Not English." Then, quieter, "not English."

The air is getting heavy between them and one of Tater's fingers is brushing gentle patterns on the Snowy's forearm as the larger man leans in. Snowy can't look away. " _Добраніч_ , _милий мій,_ " he says, his voice barely louder than a murmur.

Tater’s face dips down further and the elevator door dings, rolling open. Neither man moves for a moment, and then Snowy clears his throat. "Maybe we should continue this conversation somewhere else," he suggests, his voice rougher than normal.

"Да," Alexei agrees, and is so slow in pulling back that he has to stick his arm out between the doors so they don't shut.

He slides his hand down Snowy's forearm so he can tangle their fingers together as they walk the short distance to the goalie's condo.

Snowy expects to be pressed up against the door or the wall or _anything_ , really, when they get inside, but his teammate’s attention is instantly grabbed by the large windows that showcase the wildlife preserve out behind his building and the river beyond it.

Tater barely lets him lock his door and kick off his shoes before he is dragged over to the windows, hands still entwined.

“Snowy,” Alexei says, face awed. “Out of window…is beautiful! Almost as beautiful as you!”

“Shut up,” the goalie mutters, feeling his cheeks getting warm. "But yeah, that's one of the main reasons I moved here."

"I come live with you." Tater smiles when he says this, but his eyes are completely serious. "Then I see beauty outside _and_ inside every day."

Snowy is _not_ going to propose that the Russian move in today, nor is he going to suggest marriage as a viable option in any way, shape, or form. He is a grown-ass man who has some goddamn _control_ , for fuck sake!

"Let me show you around before you make any lasting commitments," he says instead because he's— _somehow_ —managed to convince Tater that he's not a goddamn mess, and he's going to keep up that illusion for as long as he fucking can.

Alexei beams at him and grabs his hand eagerly.

Snowy's place is spacious, but small. It has a mezzanine over most of the one large bedroom and sizeable bathroom that he's turned into a library and reading room. It also has balcony runs the length of the condo with an awning and is wider than a narrow walkway. Sitting out there with a book when the weather permits (and even occasionally when it doesn't) is one of Snowy's favourite things to do.

Tater settles himself in one of the chairs on the balcony. "This is good," he declares. "I look at buildings at my home. Nothing like this. I come and live with you; I sleep right here. You never be bothered."

"And when winter comes?"

"Not problem. Am Russian."

Snowy snorts, but doesn't argue.

Alexei stretches those incredibly long legs out in front of him and generally looks like he belongs there, both on the balcony and in Snowy's life. Once again, the goalie finds himself clamping down on the urge to ask his friend to spend the rest of their days together.

He asks if Tater would like something to drink instead.

Alexei says he'd be fine with water and Snowy uses the moment to step out of sight and get a fuckin' _grip_.

"Спасѝбо," Tater says, accepting the water. He has a small smile on his face as he watches Snowy sit down on his favourite chair.

Since the large man seems content to simply relax silently, Snowy tells the anxious voice in the back of his head to shut the fuck up and he tries to follow Tater's example.

Then Tater spots some birds and gets excited about them, so the shorter man begins to tell him about the different kinds. The Russian bombards him with questions and listens to his explanations with an awed expression on his face.

"Snowy," he says, "you are so _smart_. You know _everything_."

"Not everything. I just read a few books about the birds and shit when I moved here so I would know what I was looking at and what I should expect."

"But you _remember_ everything. I would never," Alexei quickly counters, face earnest. "Is why you always win trivia night and word games."

Snowy shrugs, a bit uncomfortable. "We did a lot of those sorts of things when I was growing up, so I've had lots of practice. You're better at handling people and doing that whole social thing. I could never do those videos the same way you do."

Tater's face softens. "You are good with people. You are quiet with it, but you are good. When I come here, you make team home faster than rest. You take time with English with me, and teach fun songs so I get better. Loan me movies and shows and talk with me about them so I get more practice."

The goalie blinks. He had no idea that the They Might Be Giant songs he'd casually taught the large cute new Russian player as an excuse to get to know him better had left such an impact. "You're welcome?"

"See? You are good, too." Alexei reaches over and curls his huge hand over Snowy's.

Snowy has no idea what to say to this.

Tater studies him for a moment, and then tugs on the goalie's hand gently. "Come inside. I need kissing you right now."

Yeah, okay, Snowy can go for that.

The door is barely closed before strong, large hands are cupping Snowy's face and Tater's warm mouth is covering his.

_YES._

Snowy grabs the front of Alexei's shirt and tries to haul him closer. He presses up eagerly, opening up to encourage Tater to do the same, not that much persuasion is needed. And this is _so_ much better than earlier in the car because he gets to have all of Alexei's hard heat against him.

One of Russian's arms slides around him and tries to help with Snowy's attempt to eliminate all space between them. It's good, great, amazing, and all the things in between.

And then Alexei's dips into his mouth.

Somebody—probably Snowy, but it _could_ have been Tater—makes a guttural sound and things start spiralling.

The goalie doesn't know how they get over to the couch, but they clearly managed it somehow, because the shorter man is stretched out over Tater and they're both horizontal (and Snowy totally did _not_ buy his couch extra-long because he happened to know a very tall Russian whom he wanted on it). One of Tater's big hands is cupping his jaw and the other is firmly planted on the small of his back.

Snowy's own hands are trying to work up Alexei's shirt without lifting any of his weight off of the Russian. It's not going so well, but it's not for lack of trying. To also be fair, he can't get enough of the little bit of skin he _has_ managed to expose and he keeps stops trying to push the shirt out of the way to slid his fingers greedily over it.

He gets distracted again when Tater shifts his head slightly and then the kisses get amazingly _deeper_.

Alexei pulls back far too soon. "Радость моя," he breathes, smoothing his hand up to cup Snowy's cheek. "I kiss you all afternoon and night. I kiss until you tell me 'stop'. I kiss you and we will forget world outside."

"Sounds like a plan," Snowy mumbles before pressing his mouth back against Tater's, not knowing if he used a language the other man understood or not. Since Alexei seemed to really like it when he used his grandmother's tongue earlier, Snowy decides it doesn't matter. Either the large man understood or he got more turned on—it all works out in the goalie's favour.

Alexei tightens his arms, as if it is possible for the two of them to get closer together before his hand finds the edge of Snowy's shirt and slips underneath.

Snowy has to break the kiss to gasp. " _Юбати_ ," he mutters and he abrupt sits up. Tater starts to make a disappointed sound in the back of his throat, which he quickly swallows when the smaller player yanks his shirt off and tosses it elsewhere.

Alexei mutters something in Russian and hungrily reaches out to touch new skin, but Snowy grabs the bottom of his shirt and starts trying to wrestle it off. After a few seconds and many swear words in two different languages, Tater finally decides to help his frustrated teammate out and sits up himself and they manage to get the shirt off.

Snowy’s fingers trace the strong lines of Tater’s powerful shoulders slowly, mapping out the subtle curves of muscles and strength. A small part of his brain is screaming _You're touching TATER MASHKOV, HOLY FUCK!_ , but a larger part is stunned into silence because he's _actually touching ALEXEI MASHKOV_ , in a _very_ not-work friendly kind of way.

It doesn't help matters when Alexei starts touching back, his face filled with wonder and amazement, as if _he_ can't believe that this is happening. Large hands smooth over Snowy's chest and then slip around to explore the musculature on the goalie's back. "Ты такая красивая," Tater murmurs, voice filled with reverence and awe.

Snowy has no idea what he just said, but the tone tells him all he needs to know. He catches Tater's face between his hands and kisses him eagerly. And it's even _better_ than before, skin to skin.

Alexei seems to agree and he holds the short man tight against him as he dives into Snowy's mouth. He mumbles something in Russian in between kisses, but since it’s mostly muffled by the goalie’s lips, Snowy has no idea what’s being said, even if he spoke Russian.

He'll ask Tater later, when he's not busy tasting every inch of Alexei's mouth and trying to touch _all_ of that smooth skin that's stretched over those amazing muscles.

_Much_ later.

When one of Alexei's delightfully large hands curls around Snowy's hip and tries to yank him even closer, the goalie retaliates by running his fingers through Tater's hair. Tater gasps into their kiss before moaning thickly. Snowy smooths his hands through the larger man's hair once more before grinding his hips down.

The noise Alexei makes is _glorious_.

Snowy’s head spins like he’s drunk, but he can’t stop, not with Tater’s mouth hungrily working against his or all that incredible skin under his fingers. He’s waited for this for such a long time, and now that he’s finally getting it…he can’t let go. He _won’t_ let go.

Tater seems to feel the same way; he kisses Snowy as if he'll starve without the shorter man and his large hands are adoring as they touch every bit of exposed skin. He keeps gasping out half-formed phrases in Russian between deep kisses and Snowy responds, but has no clue which language he uses.

Snowy has no idea how long they make-out like the world was ending, but right as they start approaching the point of no return, Tater starts slowing them down gently, despite all of the goalie's attempts to keep them hurling towards a very enjoyable—but probably messy—conclusion.

"Дорогй," Tater murmurs into the goalie's mouth. "Ты чудесная."

"Russian," Snowy mutters back and kisses the other man deeply.

"Sorry," Alexei gasps out a moment later. "English…hard."

Snowy clamps down on the urge to make a terrible pun; he silences himself with Alexei's mouth instead.

"Snowy," the Russian murmurs, pulling his lips away. "Любимый моя…we talk. We talk about how much we want, да? We talk before we go too far."

"Okay," the shorter man agrees before kissing Tater again, sliding his hands over those amazing broad shoulders and strong neck until he can cradle Tater's jaw and head.

Alexei strains against him, trying to fit them closer together before he gets a hold of himself. "We talk," he says, forcing his face away. "Is too…is too important to _not_ talk. Have to get right."

Snowy feels a warmth curl in his gut that has nothing to do with arousal. Knowing that Tater wants to get this right as much as he does makes it easier for him not to immediately dive back down into Tater's mouth. "Okay." He makes himself sit back a little bit to show that he's being serious about this.

And, well, if he's enjoying the view, who can blame him?

Tater takes a deep breath through his nose and shuts his eyes for a moment. "How…how much, how fast?" He finally stumbles out.

"I don't have sex until after the third date," Snowy says, deciding not to resist the impulse to curl his fingers around Tater's larger ones. "And I count anything that involves orgasms to be sex." He sort of hates his rules right about now.

Tater's eyes are still dark and fathomless. He nods slowly. "Okay, Ненаглядный." He lifts Snowy's hand up and kisses the goalie's knuckles. "Is good to know." He ranks his gaze down Snowy's chest. "Maybe…maybe we get shirts again."

It sounds like a _terrible_ idea, but it's probably for the best. Covering up some of the visual distraction will make it marginally easier to hold on to a semblance of control.

So Snowy quickly steals one more messy, hungry kiss before he forces himself to get off of Tater.

Once neither of are shirtless again, Tater reaches out. He takes Snowy's hand as if it is the greatest gift ever given to him. "We sit together?"

"Outside or in?" The shorter man asks, eyes drifting down to Tater's mouth, which is still looks red and slick.

Tater thinks about it for a minute. "In," he finally decides, "so I can kiss when I want and not worry."

Snowy resists the urge to say something that will undermine the entire conversation they just had. He offers up the option of watching something, or playing a board game or a video game. The Russian chooses video games, and immediately suggests a few of Snowy's old school games on his systems from the nineties, because Tater is a gigantic nostalgic nerd with a deep and unshakeable love of _Mario Tennis_ and _Secret of Mana_.

They end up alternating between playing and making out whenever the winner demands a kiss as a prize (and neither one can stop with just one kiss). Snowy feels like his blood is on fire in the best way possible. He doesn't know if he can make it until after dinner. He _wants_.

Tater follows him in to the kitchen when they manage to pull themselves away from each other because Tater's stomach has started grumbling, loudly. The large man can't seem to keep his hands to himself as Snowy tries to get the rice and salad together, despite his obvious hunger for something that is not his goalie.

"When are you planning to have Jack and his boy over?" Snowy finally asks, trying to come up with a topic of conversation that won't end up with the food being forgotten and the two of them disregarding everything they had just agreed on. He can wait until after dinner.

"I am thinking next Thursday, maybe. Are you free?"

"Oh, so you think we'll still be together then, do you?" He teases gently.

Tater catches his chin and kisses him so thoroughly his knees get weak and his cock perks up again. "Да," the large man murmurs into his mouth. "For long time, we will be together. It will be good. So very good.”

Snowy could get behind that.

… _After_ he gets dinner made.

“Yeah,” he says, a bit roughly. “Next Thursday works for me.”

Tater is smiling into their kiss. “Good. Will be fun.”

“It’ll fuckin’ be _something_ ,” Snowy mutters, but goes back to the food, half-heartedly dodging the Russian’s large hands.

Tater is more of a hindrance than a help as Snowy tries to set the table and finish up with their food. Snowy pretends to be annoyed and he swears at his teammate, but Tater’s grin is so free and playful that the goalie’s curses are far too soft and fond.

Besides, Tater's mouth _more_ than makes up for it.

God, Snowy _cannot_ fuck this up.

The timer goes off and the shorter man struggles weakly to pull away from Tater. “Food,” he mumbles before the large man has caught his mouth again and pushes him a little more firmly against the island in his kitchen. “ _Tater._ ”

Tater releases his mouth, but only so he can scrap his teeth against Snowy’s neck. The shorter man swears and arches up before he can stop himself. “ _Alexei_.”

“Да,” Tater mumbles and kisses Snowy again before slowly and reluctantly pulling away. “You should checking food now.”

“Ass,” the other man mutters, but his voice is too rough and thick for the insult to hold any real weight.

Tater sits down at the table, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth as Snowy brings over the rest of the food. His expression grows more genuine as he takes in the meal, softening into something happy and excited.

Snowy almost feels like a proper functional and put-together member of society, and not a complete mess, as he sits down across from his friend. He enjoys the illusion while it lasts and serves the food to both of them.

Tater is properly appreciative of the meal, going back for seconds and the only reason he doesn’t go back for thirds is because Snowy pulls out some ice cream and Jack’s boy’s jam for dessert.

“Snowy, you are best,” the large man declares happily before nearly eating his body weight in sugar.

“You had better remember that,” Snowy mutters, but feels something warm and content curl up in his chest in the face of Tater’s obvious enjoyment of the meal.

“I remember. I am not stupid! I have prettiest person make me good food—I am luckiest in whole world!”

Snowy has to forcefully remind himself that he’s a fuckin’ _adult_ and not some goddamn teenager who’ll propose at the smallest thing. “Not as lucky as I am,” he grumbles and gathers up his dishes.

“What?” Tater sounds taken off-guard.

Snowy gives the other man a look. “You heard me,” he says shortly. “Now shut the fuck up and help me clear off the table.”

He manages to get to his sink before Alexei catches him and pins him to the counter, kissing him with a ravenous and reverential hunger that makes his knees give out. Tater has to catch him and ends up lifting him up onto the counter so he can keep kissing the other man.

A large hand clutches at Snowy’s neck and jaw, while another one can’t seem to decide whether it wants to tighten its grip on his thigh or slide up to grab his ass. Snowy’s hands are in Tater’s hair, gripping the soft strands and attempting to give the goalie an illusion of control.

Not that it really matters at this point—with the way the larger man is moving, the only thing that will stop him is the earth opening under his feet. There will be no stopping this time.

Snowy is _more_ than okay with that. He tilts his head to a better angle and hooks one leg over a muscular hip. _Ісус Христос_ , how has he managed to go on for as long as he has without Tater's kisses? He has _so_ much time to make up for.

“Постéль,” Tater mumbles against Snowy’s mouth when they break apart to gasp before he’s hungrily pushing forwards again. The shorter man has no idea what he just said, but he doesn’t care. Whatever ‘постéль’ is, it can’t be more important than what they’re doing right now.

“ _Постéль_ ,” Tater pleads a moment later, large hands scrabbling their way under Snowy’s shirt. “Пожалуйста, Долгожданная.”

“ _Так_ ,” Snowy agrees, not caring what it is he’s saying ‘okay’ to. All that matters is for his teammate keeps kissing him like that. He pulls away only long enough to strip off Alexei’s shirt and then he’s eagerly kissing the larger man, fingers almost greedier than his mouth is.

_Fuck_ , Tater has such broad shoulders!

Tater moans, and he fumbles with Snowy’s shirt before giving up and just shoving his hands back under it. The shorter man gasps before he has to grab on to Tater’s shoulders to help keep him grounded…which, in hindsight, might not have been the smartest move to slow down his arousal. _Fuck_.

Alexei makes another sound, and then he’s yanking Snowy off of the counter. He half-drags, half-shoves the smaller man out of the kitchen.

Snowy curl his hands around the back of his teammate’s neck and tilts his head so he can dip deeper into the other man’s mouth, and ends up pressed up against a door jamb. It’s not particularly comfortable, but it’s completely worth it, with the way that Tater is groaning into him.

And then Tater braces himself and lifts Snowy up, pulling the shorter man’s legs up and around his waist. Snowy makes a noise he was unaware he even _knew_ , much less how to make, and shifts his hands from Alexei’s neck to his shoulders for better balance. And being picked up like that… _well_. Talk about learning new things about yourself every day!

He whispers Tater’s name in between incredible, messy kisses. God, they should go _somewhere_ before Snowy gets too enthusiastic and knocks Tater over or something.

“Tater,” he gasps out. “Horizontal. We need to be _horizontal_. Right _now_.”

“Да,” Tater agrees and pushes his tongue back inside of Snowy’s mouth. His hips roll forwards eagerly.

They make out urgently for a few more minutes before they manage to push themselves away from the doorway and stumble towards something large and flat. It isn’t until Tater trips and falls backwards on to Snowy’s bed instead of the couch that he knows which direction they went.

A small part of his brain is immensely grateful that he thought to clean up his room, but it’s a very, very, _very_ small part; most of his brainpower is focused on the fact that Tater’s thigh is between his legs and that Tater’s _on his bed_.

_Трахати_.

Snowy forces a hand between them and gets to work on his belt. He’ll worry about his shirt later; it’s more important that he not be the hot mess he usually is and that he gets his dick out like a goddamn _adult_ so he doesn’t come in his pants.

He has his belt undone when Tater abruptly flips them and looms over him. “Пожалуйста,” he says thickly before seemingly realising that he isn’t using English. “Please. I want.” He puts a single hand over Snowy’s on his belt. “ _Please_ ,” he begs again.

The goalie swallows hard and slowly, lets his hand slip out from under Tater’s and fall next to him on the bed. “…Okay,” he whispers in the heavy air between them.

Tater’s hands are unsteady, but reverential as they slowly peel off Snowy’s clothing. He looks at the smaller man with so much wonder and devotion that Snowy has to throw his arm over his eyes because it’s too much. How _anyone_ can think that _Snowy_ is worth that much adoration is…unreal. _Tater_ deserves that, but Snowy? He's too much of a mess.

“ _Snowy_ ,” Tater breathes. “ _Snowy_.”

“Get naked,” the shorter man forces out because he’s being overwhelmed by Tater’s emotions and this will (hopefully) bring things back to a place he can deal with things.

Tater doesn’t immediately obey; he slowly drags the tips of his fingers over the goalie’s torso, drawing a line of pure fire down Snowy’s skin. He whispers the goalie’s name again, as if it is the most precious thing in the world.

And Snowy doesn’t know what to _do_ with this kind of adulation, so he goes with what he _does_ know. He reaches up and fumbles with Alexei’s jeans, getting them unbuttoned and halfway unzipped before the Russian seems to realise what is happening. Tater tries to help, and it ends up taking them twice as long as it should to get the large man naked.

Snowy doesn't get a chance to ogle because Alexei drapes himself over the smaller man and there is skin touching skin _everywhere_ and to say that it is _glorious_ is a gross understatement.

And then they kiss.

Religions have been built on lesser experiences than this.

Tater makes a bitten-off sound before his hips jerk forwards.

Snowy curses and his fingers dig into the thick muscles of the Russian’s shoulders. He shifts his weight as best he can from under the larger man, and is rewarded for his efforts when he manages to get their cocks to align.

_Штуркти._

Tater seems to agree—his groan is loud enough that Snowy’s probably going to have a noise complaint filed against him. He should care far more than he does, considering that he’s famous enough that he could make tabloid headlines, but it’s a distant concern. He'll worry about shit like that when he doesn’t have a gorgeous, large, naked teammate over him.

He does the only sensible thing to do in this sort of situation—he forces himself to let go of one of Alexei’s shoulders and reaches between them. When Tater makes a sound that the goalie knows he’ll be using in pretty much all his upcoming masturbatory fantasies, Snowy hooks his leg behind the Russian’s knees and flips them both over.

The larger man blinks before laughing lowly and murmuring something in his native tongue, reaching up to cup the back of Snowy’s head and pulling him down for a messy but _very_ enjoyable kiss.

And Snowy’s hand is still wrapped around _TATER MASHKOV'S_ dick.

_Штуркти_ , he _cannot_ fuck this up.

Tater groans into his mouth and his hips start rocking upwards in short, minuscule thrusts. One large hand curves down around the swell of the goalie’s ass eagerly and Snowy makes a few embarrassing noises of his own.

Tater whispers something in his native tongue, but his tone is clear; he’s begging. Hips lifting slightly and unevenly, his large hands scrabble over Snowy’s back. He can’t seem to decide where the best place for his hands should be. His fingers flex whenever they find a ridge of muscle and bone they can clench at, and he makes soft aching noises of arousal every time they do. It’s one of the most erotic things Snowy has ever experienced in his life.

He tightens his hand slightly and feels his arousal spike at the moan the action elicited.

Snowy only gets a few more strokes to enjoy the sensation of Tater in his hand before the large man cries out and comes messily between them.

_Holy FUCK._

_Snowy_ did that and yup, that is, officially, the sexiest thing that he has _ever_ been part of.

Snowy’s hip jerks forwards a few times desperately, and then he comes hard.

For a few moments, the only sound is the two of them panting harshly as they come down from their high. Then Tater reaches up and brings the shorter man’s mouth down to his, murmuring something adoring in Russian before their lips meet.

Snowy firmly reminds himself that he is trying to keep Alexei from figuring out what a mess he is, and that means _NOT PROPOSING_ right now. He is _not_ some goddamn teenager who’s never had sex before, thank you _very_ much!

Tater is smiling like all the world's problems have been solved in the best way possible when they break apart. “Snowy,” he says reverentially. “ _Snowy._ ” He kisses the goalie again, as if this was the pinnacle moment of his life.

“We should clean up,” Snowy manages to get out a few minutes later, not really interested in ever leaving his bed again but assuming that his friend doesn’t want to end up glued to him. His fingers slowly trace up Tater’s arm to his shoulders before tangling in his hair.

“Do not know if I can stand yet,” Tater confesses, still looking as if he’s just discovered the secrets of the universe and happiness and everything in between. He tilts his head, pushing it slightly further into Snowy’s hand.

“That's okay, we'll practice good ecological shower safety,” the goalie promises. “We’ll use the buddy system and conserve water at the same time."

Tater snorts and begins to snicker. He wraps his long thick arms around the other man and pins him to his chest, shaking and roaring with laughter. Snowy joins in a moment later, but he tries to pepper a few kisses in between; it’s ultimately a futile effort because both of them are laughing too hard for it to work.

“Seriously,” the goalie gasps out a few minutes later. “We need to get cleaned up. We’ll both appreciate it if we do, eh?”

“You always have best ideas, Любимый моя,” Tater says fondly. He makes no move to get up and only runs his hands over the other man’s chest gently.

“We also need to put the last little bit of food away.”

“Да.” Large hands slide over Snowy’s side and up his back slowly.

“ _Alexei_.”

“What? Am not stopping you.”

“I thought you liked the idea of being shower buddies.”

“I do. But this is good.” Tater starts guiding the shorter man’s mouth down. “Is very good,” he breathes before they’re kissing again.

_Fuck,_ Snowy could do this all night.

He shifts and feels the cooling wetness between them moves with him. He pulls his mouth away from Tater’s, making a face. Okay, he could do this all night _after_ he gets rid of the mess between them. “Shower. _Now_.” He rolls off of his teammate and has to dodge eager hands that try to pull him back.

Snowy pauses at the door of his bathroom and looks over his shoulder. Tater is staring at him with the most naked expression of want and adulation that he’s ever seen in his life. Still uncomfortable with anyone thinking that _he_ should be on the receiving end of such a look, Snowy tries to make the lust win out over the devotion. He cocks his hip slightly and rolls his shoulders. “Well? Are you going to join me or are you going to stay there until my knees leave imprints on my shower floor?”

Tater’s eyes widen almost comically as the implications hit him before his pupils dilate so much that even the blond man can see it from across the room. The Russian nearly brains himself on the edge of Snowy’s bedframe in his haste to get up and over to the bathroom, but somehow manages to keep his feet under him.

Snowy’s still laughing when Tater sweeps up against him, kissing him urgently. He’s backed into his bathroom, barely able to breathe with how deeply and passionately he’s being kissed. When his brain comes back online later, he needs to remember that Tater is clearly a fan of blow jobs.

He reaches up and scrapes his fingers against his large teammate’s scalp and Tater breaks off the kiss with a thick moan. Snowy feels smug for a few seconds, but since some of his brain functions have come back in the absence of Tater's hungry mouth, he steps away carefully. "C'mon."

Snowy had thought that Tater had been good looking before, but that was before he saw the man with rivulets of water tracing his every muscle and the steam softening his edges. _God_. Snowy doesn’t know how he’s managed to convince the larger man to be here like this right at this moment, but he can’t waste time trying to figure that out right now. He has a plan, like some sort goddamn _adult_ or something.

With that in mind, Snowy sinks slowly to his knees, keeping up eye contact the entire way down.

Tater goes from half-hard to fully erect to ejaculation in a gratifyingly and _extremely_ flatteringly short amount of time. As Snowy mentally congratulates himself, the large man drops unceremoniously to the floor, his legs appearing unable to keep him upright. He gasps a few times and then he tips forwards, clumsily shoving at Snowy. Before the goalie can even process what’s happening, Tater is sloppily returning the gesture, hungry and uncoordinated.

Snowy swears and scrabbles at Tater’s shoulders and head. He hadn’t been expecting reciprocation and the sudden, abrupt pleasure almost overwhelms him. And Alexei’s mouth—while messy and graceless—is enthusiastic and increasingly skilful as the haze from his previous orgasm fades.

He pulls out _all_ the stops and the shorter man is reduced to babbling vowel sounds in embarrassingly short order. Snowy’s hips jerk up a few times in sharp, abortive thrusts, and then he’s done. He almost sobs as he comes, body drowning in wild pleasure.

Tater is alternating between mouthing at Snowy’s jaw and nuzzling into the curve of his neck when the goalie is able to place his surroundings again. He lifts his arms and heavily wrap them around the murmuring Russian.

They both sit there on the shower floor, kissing and petting, until the water slowly starts to get cold. Even then, it takes some coaxing and wheedling to get Tater out and far enough away they can dry off.

“Food, Tater,” Snowy gasps out as the larger man crowds into his space and drags his teeth lightly down the goalie’s neck. “We can make out for as long as you want once the food is put away. Just…let me go take care of the food.”

“I am not stopping you,” Tater mumbles and gets to work on a sensitive spot, all teeth and lips until there’s probably a _huge_ purple mark there.

Snowy curses and his fingers tighten before he manages to gather up the strength to push Tater away. “For _fuck_ sake! Just let me—"

Tater yanks him back and pins him against the wall, eager with his touching and hungry with his kisses. And Snowy is moaning and responding before he knows it.

He finally pulls away, far closer to being hard than he has any right being after two intense orgasms with the cutest and sweetest person to have ever lived. “ _Food_ , Tater. I promise, I’ll be right back after and then we can continue on.”

“I do not know if I can be apart from you for so long.” Tater’s eyes are dark and liquid and so full of worshipful promise that Snowy wants to look away.

“Well, you’ll have to. I won’t be that long, I promise.” The blond has to hold the other man back as he tries to slip away to the kitchen.

“I think if you leave, I will wake up,” Tater says softly, catching the goalie’s wrist gently. “This is all dream.”

Snowy swallows hard and reminds himself that he’s trying to be fuckin’ _responsible._ “Look it, if anyone’s dreaming, it’s me. Give me ten minutes to clean up, and I’ll prove to you that you’re not.” He smiles as lasciviously as he can.

Which might have been a mistake—judging how Tater’s eyes darken at the promise—so Snowy beats a hasty retreat.

He’s not as careful as he normally would be, but he made a promise; he can’t leave Tater waiting alone in his bed. He maybe be a mess, but he’s not _stupid_.

Tater smiles at him when he comes back into the room, an erotic picture of pure joy and awe, and he opens his arms.

Snowy goes willingly, and privately wonders when it will be appropriate to propose.

_x Fin x_

**Author's Note:**

> Так—Yes  
> Бувай—Bye  
> Добраніч—Sleep well  
> Чорт тебе бери—The devil take you!  
> Штуркти—Fuck  
> Милий мій—My dear (masculine)  
> Любимый—Beloved (masculine)  
> Я скучив—I've missed you.  
> Ненаглядный—Dear (wondrously beautiful) (masculine)  
> Позашлюбний—Bastard  
> Хуй-дражнити—Cock-tease  
> Нет—No  
> Ісус Христос—Jesus Christ  
> Да—Yes  
> Спасѝбо—Thanks  
> Радость моя—My joy  
> Юбати—Fuck  
> Ты такая красивая—You are so beautiful.  
> Дорогй—Dear (masculine)  
> Ты чудесная—You are wonderful.  
> Любимый моя—My beloved  
> Постéль—Bed  
> Пожалуйста, Долгожданная—Please, my long-awaited.  
> Трахати—Fuck.  
> Любимый моя—My beloved (masculine)


End file.
